The House of Dovahkiin
by TomKawczynski
Summary: With Alduin vanquished, Skyrim united, and the world returning to normal, the Dragonborn feels a calling to achieve yet greater heights. Having saved the world once already, this is the first chronicle of how he sought to rebuild the world as he thought best. New quests, political intrigue, and unveiled ambitions are revealed herein.
1. Chapter 1

Quietly, the Dragonborn allowed his gaze to wander out over the roofs of Solitude. From Proudspire Manor, he could easily see not just the Blue Palace and Castle Dour, but all the other places in between. Although he had property in every Hold, no place in Skyrim drew his attention more than this northern port, a gateway to a larger world with other possibilities.

Seeing so much as he now had, the Nord who surprisingly knew about so many things while having so many mysteries about himself wondered for a moment on his own past. Who were his parents? Where had he come from? Slayer of Alduin, Archmage of Winterhold, Legate of the Imperial Legion, and a host of other titles...but who was he?

Maybe he was possibility in its purest form. If the dragon he had fought in Sovngarde represented the end of the world, would not his opponent be the bringer of new beginnings? Certainly, the Book of Fate in that little Windhelm shop the Butcher owned suggested as much, but he had no answers. Taking one more swill of Cyrodilic Brandy, he called up to Jordis to release her for the evening as he had a guest joining him tonight.

For a time, he was focused only upon the dragons and the threat they represented. But after finding so many artifacts and secrets, after so many grand adventures, the Dragonborn realized something odd. The world did not end. It felt like each story had ended, each job had done, and yet people still lived and he found himself burning to achieve something more.

This was why he joined the Civil War at last. Both sides were right and both were wrong. The White-Gold Concordat was a mistake, he knew surely within his heart, and allowing man to be thrust from his place in divinity was a lie. Having seen the fine halls of Sovngarde, it was beyond question that there was a place where the mortal met the mystical and transcended this life. In the Thu'um, he felt that energy pulse through his own being, and wondered if Talos, if Tiber Septim, or even the man Hjalti knew the same. All Nords, all men should have seen the folly of giving that concession.

Yet, he hadn't joined Ulfgar in the end. The realization he would not support this man to be High King of Skyrim became clear at the Graybeards' Peace Conference. So belligerent and so self-absorbed, his leadership would have been a mistake for the Nords because there was a bigger picture: The Thalmor. The Aldmeri Dominion would have benefitted too much from his success, and so the Dragonborn entered the war.

Taking another drink to numb his own disgust at all the good men and women he had slaughtered, the Dragonborn thought of the attacks again. This wasn't like killing bandits, dark necromancers, or simple animals. These were men who should have been allies, and as the war continued, his realization grew about why he was fighting. He was fighting not just for those in Imperial garb, for his race and for their survival, to honor the sacrifice of those he slew.

Legate Rikke had obviously been uncomfortable with all the times he had gone to take on entire castles by himself, but eventually accepted it. When the battle rage came upon him, he was known to slaughter anyone who came too close, regardless of their colors or even his intention. It was easier, and perhaps he saved a few men by doing the dirty work himself.

Tullius knew the truth of what happened, but all agreed that the Empire needed the victory. One victor, one unit, and one country once more. And so, the Dragonborn slew everyone before him save the Jarl of Windhelm. He could not say why he did not indulge the dying man's last request, but maybe that was the cost of failure. A leader who did not think of his men, not what they wanted so much as what they needed did not deserve a happy ending.

The irony wasn't lost on the warrior considering his own actions, but the war had ended and though his hands had more blood on them, he accepted this without too much remorse. Maybe it was the influence of the dragons. He never felt so much like Malacath as when thinking how they thought. And tonight was no exception from those thoughts.

Sitting on the balcony, he could hear distant sounds emanating from the Bard's College and see the Blue Palace in the distance. A smile caught at the edge of his lips as he thought about that, keeping those thoughts secret for the moment. Something to think about later, as he turned his glance in the opposite direction and toward Castle Dour.

By sound alone, he could tell his guest for the evening was approaching from that direction as the heavy rhythmic steps said many things. They bespoke authority, command, and a lack of fear he had come to appreciate. As the man who owned that cadence came closer, he called down to him and said, "Come to the back, General. It's a beautiful evening for once, and I thought we might enjoy the night air."

Grunting, General Tullius, commander of the Imperial Legion in all Skyrim, ascended steps in the back saying, "What you Nords consider warm still amazes me."

Smiling, and in consideration of his guest's comfort, the Dragonborn poked at a fire while he whispered two quick incantations beneath his lips: A spell for warmth and a ward for privacy. He did not wish to be overheard by anyone. Even though he was sure he would detect such an intruder long before any danger passed, practice became habit over time.

He rose to salute, in respect of their positions within the military, and knowing how it might please the general. Though Tullius scoffed at the gesture, it was also clear he enjoyed it as he took a seat along with a tumbler of the fine brandy.

"I see you're finally drinking the good stuff," the Imperial said with approval.

"I've come to appreciate a number of things that Cyrodil has to offer," the Dragonborn returned with flattery. Lest he seem too kind, he added, "As you have with this fine land, I'm sure."

The soldier laughed at that and said, "Tough men, tougher women, and no drought. But it is an honest place, and I like that." Tullius looked up at the Legate and said, "It makes things simpler, don't you think?"

"Always," the Nord agreed with a smile. "I wish it could always be so, but things can be complicated." He left an unfinished thought there before asking, "How goes the mop up operations?"

"As good as can be expected. Free-Winter is doing the best he can in Windhelm, and he's getting help from the Dunmer and Argonians, but people aren't happy there."

"And elsewhere?"

"Some places better than others. At least the fighting is over though," the general conceded.

"Do you think it is, though?" the Dragonborn asked.

Tullius scoffed, "With you in the field, I doubt anyone will oppose things openly. What people think isn't my concern, so long as they remain loyal and don't cause trouble."

Lifting his drink then, the Nord smiled a surprisingly warm smile in the moonlight. Strong with muscles built from use, he had a clever look, narrow eyes, and short hair. He was almost nondescript at a distance, a useful trait he had relied upon several times, but the intensity of his gaze was fixed on Tullius then as he toasted, "To a lasting peace, General."

"Aye," stated the Imperial, before adding, "And peace to the dead and the living."

A quiet moment elapsed where neither man spoke and each was lost in their own thoughts. The anger of the Dov might sometimes sweep him away, but the Dragonborn was a man of discipline and self-control outside those few times when his blood took over. He just felt calm and waited.

Before too long, Tullius spoke up and asked him, "So did you invite me over here just to reminisce on the memories, or did you have a reason?"

"Besides the pleasure of your company," the Nord laughed, knowing how transparent that would sound.

The commander smiled and spread his hands in invitation for whatever would be said next.

Swirling the tumbler in his own hand, the Nord said, "Do you remember what you said outside Windhelm?"

"You mean the speech?" Tullius frowned. "I hate giving those things."

Interrupting the other man, the Nord said, "Not that. About the Thalmor."

A moment of concern crossed the Imperial Legion officer's face, as he wondered if something important had happened, but when he saw no change in the features of his subordinate, he exhaled almost inaudibly. "I recall a concern or two."

The Dragonborn said, "You never asked me why I picked your side."

"I didn't need to know," said Tullius sincerely. "It's not the job of a general to know why men do what they do. It's their job to tell men what they need to do."

"Too true," rued the blond haired man. "But I'm no ordinary man. Would you like to know?"

With the frank glance that had frozen lesser man, the Imperial added, "I don't know. My senses tell me it might be easier if I didn't."

The Nord almost grinned in response to that. "Because, as you rightly noted, this war was fighting the wrong enemy." He only paused before continuing, "The question of whether or not the Empire was right is one we can debate, and I know you have more nuanced views than you're going to share, but the point is we need a strong Empire because the Aldmeri Dominion will carve us up otherwise."

Reaching back, the Dragonborn grabbed a few files and handed them over to the General.

Glancing at the nondescript folders briefly, Tullius raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

"They're files from the Thalmor Embassy. To save you some time, what they show is the Elves enjoyed our little war and wanted it to continue." Offering detail about the provenance of the files, he added, "The Blades were involved with getting these, and I thought you might like to know."

"It doesn't surprise me," the square set man said. "They are no friend to the Empire."

"I think it's larger than that, General. They're no friend to humanity. Imperial, Breton, Redguard, Nord. They hate us all. They think us beneath them."

"You sound like Ulfric now," Tullius revealed.

Abruptly, the Dragonborn said, "No, because this one thing is different. Ulfric hated them. I don't hate the Merfolk. But I know their Dominion hates us, and as surely as one elder race tried to enslave us, I see another already making their moves."

The General nodded but added nothing.

"Talos. Tiber Septim, your emperor, dethroned from his place amongst the divines and why? Because he was a human with aspirations beyond himself. The Emperor never should have accepted that bargain."

Concerning the White-Gold Concordat, Tullius mused, "I might agree with you, but that War made this look like child's play. Have you read the reports?"

The Nord nodded, but now the Imperial said, "Well, it was worse than that. I was there for some of that fighting. I saw men die not by the dozen but by the thousands. So peace itself was worth the cost."

Musing over this recollection, the Dragonborn said, "And you still think it is worth it?"

"It doesn't matter what I think, sir," Tullius sardonically offered. "I'm just a blade to go where the Emperor wills, as do we all."

Sensing he had pressed a sore spot with the General, the Nord adjusted the conversation to a different topic, shelving some thoughts he had for another time.

"Neither you nor I can control that," said the Nord as there was a hint that he wondered how true that statement might be which couldn't help but escape, "But let us instead speak of the here and now in Skyrim."

"Okay," said the General, obviously relieved to be on what he considered safer ground.

"I think I should marry Elisef."

Taken aback by the abruptness of this revelation, Tullius choked back a drink he hadn't yet swallowed and then looked more critically at his counterpart. Waiting to see if there was any humor in the grey eyes across from him, when he saw there was not, he said, "You're serious."

Somewhere between a question and a statement, the simple response came, "I am."

"Does she know about this?"

"Not yet," the Dragonborn said. "I wanted to talk to you first."

"Me?" he asked in genuine surprise. "I don't have any control over that…"

Interrupting, the Nord said, "I think you have far more say than you realize. I'm sure Falk and the rest of her court will approve, but she relies on your counsel greatly, and she would have come quickly to you once I spoke with her anyway."

Tullius mused over that and said carefully, "I like Elisef. She's a good woman, a fine jarl, and someone I know I can trust." An emphasis on the final syllable was the question he was asking in return.

The Dragonborn ignored the implication and instead said, "She is all those things, and I will treat her very well and work with her to make all we accomplished mean something."

"You want to be High King, then," said the General.

"The possibility occurred to me. It would unite the land, and I'm well-known and respected in every hold."

Skeptically, Tullius countered, "And the Stormcloaks…"

"They will follow me as well. They respect a strong Nord. And none will challenge me."

The raw power hinted at by that statement clearly set the general ill at ease, but he didn't know what to say. It was obvious from his own expression that Tullius didn't know what to do.

The Imperial set down his drink, and asked finally, "Why?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"No," Tullius considered, but he found himself confessing, "But I know I will need to know."

"And will you support me?"

"In this?" he paused then continued, "For now?"

The legionnaire stared into the distance before locking his sight squarely on his companion and saying, "If it is something she wants, I will not oppose you."

"I had hoped for more…"

Sighing, the General said, "You're dangerous, Dragonborn. I can't oppose you here and win. But I didn't just win one war to fight another. And you're as big a threat as Skyrim has to the Empire."

Speaking baldly, the Nord said, "General, I'm no threat to your Empire. In truth, I want to save it. But I will need your help, and this will not be easy."

"What are you asking of me, then?" the military man fell into regimen, looking for orders, before making a decision.

"I'm just asking we talk and understand one another. This is just a conversation."

"For now," Tullius said.

"For now, yes."

A moment passed away slowly before Tullius asked, "When will you approach her?"

"Before the end of the week. There's no sense in waiting."

"Courtship?" asked the General in a surprisingly softer moment. Maybe he did care for this woman who had in many ways become his ward.  
"Less than she deserves," the Dragonborn conceded, "But the good widow will not lack for affection. Such as I can share, I will. It needn't be only a political marriage, but Mara willing, time will answer those questions."

"And if I say no?" Tullius asked.

"I'd rather you didn't," said the Nord. "General, I respect you, and I'm going to count on you to work with me to help restore this land."

"Skyrim needs the help, and it needs a strong hand. You know this," said the Dragonborn.

"Yes, you're right," said the Imperial, "But I don't want to be a politician anymore."

At this, the Nord laughed and said, "And I only wanted to hunt through dungeons after beasts and Gods, but we both live in a more complicated world than that. You should have stayed a Tribune if you didn't want responsibility, General."

"Sometimes, we don't have choices," Tullius said. "At least, not the ones we want."

As the general looked at him, the Nord said, "But sometimes, we have better choices than we think, and real opportunities. We fought together as strong allies against a common enemy before. And I think, as you once told me, we will have to do so together again."

Taking a breath with an anticipation he rarely felt, the Dragonborn said, "I'm hoping you will trust me once more, Tullius. I think we will need one another."

* * *

_Author's Notes: (1) These events are set some time after the defeat of Alduin and following an Imperial Victory in the Civil War. (2) The Dragonborn is, as yet, unnamed for reasons that will come out in time. (3) I haven't written in a long time, so I'm just getting back into the swing of this, so I apologize in advance for mistakes I make, give full credit to the creative talent in whose world I am writing, and hope you enjoy._


	2. Chapter 2

A private dinner with the Jarl of such an important city was never truly a private manner. With an entourage consisting of the steward, Falk Firebeard, a number of guards, and various other onlookers, the dinner to which her Thane found himself invited later that week was nonetheless the opportunity the Dragonborn had been awaiting.

Dinner had been excellent, as always, with fresh venison prepared brilliantly. It was accompanied by honest Nordic fare like potatoes and mead, of which he only drank sparingly, and conversation was equally pleasant. They spent dinner talking about stories from the Bard's College, and the Dragonborn, a member in his own right whose exploits had rarely been tested when it came to vocals, offered to sing if those there would like.

Elisef, obviously amused, said, "We would be most honored to hear your voice, so long as you won't be speaking in Dragon tongue," to which her attendees laughed.

Enjoying her wit, he rejoined, "No, my lady. But I'll save the fire breath for dessert for another time."

With that, he arose and said, "I've thought long and hard about this war and this land, and here it goes."

_Ulfric came roughly, his manner so brash  
Acting, not thinking, in fashion too rash  
Raised he an army of many brave souls  
Our brothers and sisters we no longer know  
But honor the memory we must of the dead  
In victory, in triumph, and happily led  
By the lady of wisdom, bereft of her king  
Elisef the Fair, of you we now sing  
Begins now your story in earnest and fact  
The kingdom unbroken, keep it intact  
For Skyrim knows just how much you mean  
The woman, the protector, so lovely, the Queen._

Resting his voice after the melody, he couldn't help but notice the lovely blush spreading across the cheeks of the young widow, and the commendations of all those around the table were lost in his gaze at her.

Recovering herself, the Jarl sat primly and despite her best and well-trained efforts at composure, she related, "Dragonborn, you flatter me far too much, but it is welcome." The smile from her beautiful face was sincere as she said, "If you were hoping to earn more commissions for your college, I think you may have succeeded!"

He smiled in good humor, adding, "It would be appreciated, but that was for you. I was wondering if I might enjoy the pleasure of your company this evening, perhaps for a stroll through the town."

As Elisef looked at him in amazement, she heard her steward saying, "We could arrange for some guards."

She cut off Falk, telling him, "Our friend here is well-known and trusted to this Court, and if he could defeat a dragon, I'm sure he can protect me from any threat that might arise."

Nodding obliquely, the man in question agreed without false conceit.

"Very well," Elisef told her Court. "Why don't we take our leave now?"

Rising and coming to her side, the Dragonborn offered her his arm for support, and she took it, resting her fair hand within his own. Though her frame was slight, the tender skin concealed a strong grasp of supple fingers. Thinking for a moment, he wondered how long it had been since anyone had treated this important woman as anything more than a symbol. But he said nothing for now. Too many people, and he waited until they strode past the guards and into the street before speaking.

"So you liked my song?" he asked, knowing the answer already but opening the conversation with a surprising degree of awkwardness. He knew his reasons for what he had begun, and yet, more than just reason was now motivating him.

"You know I did," she said earnestly. "And I'm enjoying this walk also. I don't mind being the Jarl, in fact I rather like it, but that isn't all I ever wanted to be. Once, I was just a wife," she reminisced.

"Wife to the High King," he rejoined. "Hardly a position of freedom."

"No," she conceded, "it wasn't that. But I did have time to be myself and Torygg didn't mind."

At mention of her bereaved husband, her companion was respectfully silent for a moment, recognizing the delicate nature of how he would continue.

"I think all Skyrim shares your mourning, especially in light of what came of it, but it is a new day now, perhaps."

Not catching the too subtle hint, she asked frankly, "Do you think so? Now that Ulfric is gone, do you think people will stop feeling as they did?" Her eyes looked upon him innocently, wanting an honest answer.

He shrugged slightly and stopped walking, looking to the House of the Dead on his left as their stroll continued. "I think all things are possible. But perhaps, not so easy."

Raising an eyebrow in question, she pressed on, "And what would you do, Dragonborn. How do you fight enemies when they stop picking up their swords?"

It was a perceptive question she asked of him, and he could only say, "I think people need something to believe. They need a purpose to unite them. Maybe not fear, maybe hope."

With a little bit of surprise dancing across her face, Elisef remarked, "You're a strange man, you know?" Seeing the hurt he pretended across his features, she added, "A good one though, no doubt."

"Not always so good," he intimated to her.

Few had seen him walk around so much without the mask he wore into conflict. He now owned all eight Dragonpriest masks, and had learned to use them like so many other wonderful and terrible things. But he hadn't given time, hadn't taken the chance to just be himself in his own right. And here he was, flirting with the most powerful woman in Skyrim. He knew he was powerful, but he had forgotten almost he was a man and she was alluring.

She laughed in spite of herself though, and the Jarl tugged on his arm slightly as she said, "I do so like seeing you forget yourself."

More quietly, she added, "You know, Dragonborn, you never told me your real name. I might like to know that."

Taken aback by the request, he said to her, "I don't know."

Pausing for a moment, she said, "How can you not know such a thing?" Sincere in her disbelief, he stammered a response.

"You may call me Wulf, as that is the name I have been using, but I don't know my past." Seeing a bench that was unoccupied as they moved forward through the town, he indicated with his head that he'd like to sit to explain and the Jarl indulged him.

"My story begins in a carriage in Helgen. I was there when the first dragon attack happened, you know."

She nodded, allowing him to continue the story at his own pacing. If nothing else, she was a practiced listener.

"I had been taken captive by the Imperials along with Ulfric. I never knew why. It's like I was just there, and I hadn't been anywhere before."

"But surely you must remember something of your past?" she probed. "Of your parents, of growing up?"

"Yes," he said, then replacing it with, "No, not quite. I have recollections of being younger, of being elsewhere, but they're fogged as if I'm not meant to see them."

She considered this piece of information before saying, "And you know nothing of your past then?"

"Nothing," he confirmed. "I've used the College at Winterhold to help, and Tolfdir has been trying to help, but nothing so far."

He felt strangely inadequate as her palm gently squeezed his own. She said, "Maybe it is better to not have a past. Sometimes, we become trapped beneath who we are expected to be, and maybe the Gods intended you to be free from such burdens. Who are we to question their demands?"

The Nord smiled at the lady's kindness, and recovered himself saying, "And it is of that future that I wish to speak, if I may."

"May I call you Wulf," she asked, diverting the conversation.

"If you like."

"Until you find another name you prefer, I would like to be able to speak to you as a friend might. It is a luxury I do not get often."

"Of course," he agreed happily.

"You were saying…" she reminded.

He had a bit of an awkward expression on his face and looked at her once or twice, seeing her still and patient features, almost slightly misplaced on such a young face, and then eventually began.

"Skyrim needs strong leadership…" he began, and then saw the disappointment on her face as the dismay at being taken away for just politics was plain.

"Wait," he pleaded. "Elisef, if I may call you that…" leaving the question linger for a moment until she subtly nodded.

"I asked you out here because I think we need to come together to save this land. I learned a lot, and have thought about many things, and Skyrim is in danger."

Intrigued but still a little crestfallen, she did not interrupt, but looked at the Dragonborn uncertainly. Why was this so difficult, he wondered?

She prompted, "You know if you need my service, I will gladly give such aid as you require."

"Thank you," he said too quickly. "I do, but it's more than that." Curses, but this was proving hard. Why did this woman have this impact? Better to be clear and plain, he decided, and a rush of words followed, revealing more than he intended.

"I want your hand," he said, squeezing her hand before she had the chance to withdraw. "I think together, Skyrim would be stronger, and we could save many lives."

Her mouth agape, Elisef didn't know what to say, but before she could formulate a reply, he continued.

"It's good politics, and if this war didn't teach me anything else, it taught me not to overlook such things." Swallowing heavily, he added, "But maybe I did overlook just one important thing: You."

She scoffed, "It seems that you've thought of every angle."

"No," he said with command. "I didn't. For all my honeyed words, I didn't realize how beautiful you are," and as he said that, he reached across and kissed her. Her initial shock and resistance gave way, as the fire in his veins overwhelmed them both and awakened something. One had lost it, one had never known it, but it was there in passionate fury.

"I need a partner. But, Elisef, between you and I, I think we might share other needs also."

The woman was now a girl as much as he was just a boy. In the silence of the late evening, stripped of their titles and unaware of the world around them, fortunately quiet as it was, neither knew what had just happened or what it would mean.

Finally, she spoke and said, "You've said a lot tonight, Wulf. I don't know what to say to any of it."

"You could just say yes," he offered weakly.

"And it would be that simple?" she asked. "Would people accept such a thing?" she asked allowed, saving the more important private question of whether she even wanted such a thing. But he was beautiful, she couldn't help but notice, and it had been so long. If not him, then what man would ever be willing to approach her, Jarl of Solitude, likely future High Queen, and what? Just a symbol?

"It is the Nordic way. We are both heroes, after all." His smile was beaming and genuine.

She thought about her deceased husband. He was really just a boy, in so many ways, and though they shared some things, there was never any doubt that it was just a political marriage. And she understood that, but this was different. She knew it, but couldn't explain it.

Now he waited for her response, and she said to him finally, "I didn't expect such an offer. If I had, I might have brought the steward with me."

Trying to seize the moment, her companion said, "I think I much prefer kissing you to kissing him. His beard would have been very scratchy."

She hated the girlish giggle that involuntarily escaped her mouth, and then said unconvincingly. "You forget yourself, and that is not fully."

He wasn't buying it any more than she was, of course, but she did say, "What am I going to do?"

"You don't really have to decide right now," the Dragonborn added.

"Do I even have a choice?" she asked, looking at him with uncertainty.

"You always do," he said with surprising conviction. "I would not want something not given freely. And I respect you."

Her heart brightened at the compliment, but her mind was dashing through the possibilities as she continued through the potential outcomes. "But if I said no, then what would you do? Do not pretend as if you asked this without a plan in mind. I've seen far too much of what you've done to believe that."

Respecting her intelligence, Wulf replied, "It would be easier and better if we were to be together. There are always other ways to accomplish things, but I meant what I said. I think we both care for this place and these people. And I think you also know the war we just won was a mistake."

"Do you think we should not have fought?" she asked with a bit of trepidation.

"No," he said as he shook his head in denial, "But it was a war that shouldn't have needed fighting. Nordic blood was spilt over Imperial misdeeds and Thalmor maneuvering."

This glimpse into his thoughts opened her mind to the bigger political ramifications, of which she was also aware, and as she carefully phrased her next inquiry, his next statement stopped her.

"I knew when you had me return that horn that you understood. Talos was our God, and we were stripped of him. We were cast out."

Shocked by how bluntly he spoke of this, "But if you felt so strongly, then how could you…"

Her trailing voice was interrupted by his reply, "Because Ulfric was a dangerous fool and a brigand. And because there was a time and a place for that fight, and he was wrong about how to do things."

As she considered his words, the Dragonborn said, "I've seen many things, talked with Gods and Daedra alike, been to the afterlife and places in this world I'd prefer not to remember. But I've learned this, if nothing else: If things aren't done in the right way, and in the right manner, then nothing works out for anyone. Life is always but one step from being a tragedy, and this Civil War we fought was one."

To that, she had no reply as the weight of the dead hit her. As Jarl, she could separate out the human cost of the decisions she made from their consequences sometimes, a product of being isolated from the daily actions they required and years of practice. But she knew the numbers. Tullius made sure of that. And she knew also this man had been the indispensable piece. To hear him speak this way of what happened, when she also knew what he had done, it touched her. Something was alive in this intimate stranger.

She wrapped her fingers more closely to his, offering no more but no less, and whispered, "I agree."

Quiet cloaked them both in their thoughts. She was thinking too many things to say nothing. He was feeling too many things to say anything. And yet, for their combined uncertainties, both took comfort in the presence of the other. It shouldn't have been such, but a bridge had been crossed somewhere deep within, and though neither spoke of that, both knew it.

"I cannot answer you now," she said. "You've given me much to consider," she halted, and then said, "But I will consider it seriously."

"That is all I can ask," he agreed.

"But Wulf," she asked, a note of pleading escaping into her words in spite of her best efforts.

His gray eyes pierced her heart as she saw her words did matter to him. It surprised, shocked, and electrified her. The words held back a moment longer than she expected before she resumed, "Is this about politics or this about me?"

He waited a long moment before he finally said, with resolution building in his features, "I hope both. I know this is a good idea, but I hope it is a happy one."

And he surprised himself as he realized just how lonely it had been. He was of the spirit of the Dov, driven to conquer and to build his own empire, but he was also of the body of a man, a strong Nord with honest deeds and strong action. He had forgotten that in this, but this woman reminded him.

"I might be a dragon," he said so low that she strained to hear him, "But I also am a man."


	3. Chapter 3

Three days later, Wulf found himself invited to a dinner at the Blue Palace. It would not be a strictly private affair as Tullius and Falkbeard would also be there, but that Elisef had invited him back was a promising sign.

He thought about her more than he had expected during the wait, and it surprised him to find he still knew so little about himself. Of his own abilities and talents, he knew these without question. But of his soul, there were questions he had not considered enough, that bothered him to even acknowledge. There might yet be time for those, and he had learned time had a way of sorting things out. Paarthurnax had taught him that much.

But it wasn't the Way of the Voice he longed for, but rather to hear a more pleasant melodious voice once more. And yet, in the presence of others, he would be cautious. Friends though they were, too many uncertainties persisted to have overly high expectations.

Picking an outfit thrust upon him by those miserable Altmer who ran Radiant Raiment, he looked into the mirror several times before departing. It was a classy green outfit, coupled with an Amulet of Mara as a not too subtle hint of his ongoing intentions. It would not be lost on Elisef, he hoped.

He briskly strode up the steps to the Jarl's residence and past the familiar guards who waived him by. As Thane, they knew he enjoyed the confidence of their leader, and as Dragonborn, they could not fail to recognize the blond Nord. Although, he did notice a few surprised expressions at his formal attire for the evening.

As he arrived at the table where Falk Firebeard and Tullius were already sitting, he acknowledged both politely with a slight bow, and then said to Elisef, "My Jarl, thanks for the hospitality of your home."

Equally formal, but with her own mischievous grin hiding just behind her tightly controlled features, she responded, "Solitude always welcomes her heroes, as do I, honored Thane."

After he sat, the burly steward spoke up as he stroked his red beard meditatively and said, "The Lady tells me a most interesting story, Dragonborn."

She blushed and Tullius blanched, but the honest if impolitic steward continued and said, "I hear that you have an interest in the Jarl beyond providing just basic services, and I find myself wondering what prompted you to think that now, when you have not done so before."

"Steward," the Jarl reproached, "Do you think it wise to speak so rudely to our guest."

"Wise, perhaps not," he intoned, "But it makes this much simpler."

Before she could add anything else, Tullis offered his own conviction to the argument by saying, "Is this not why we have been convened here today, to discuss these matters?"

She threw her hands up with a sigh, abandoning her composure for a precious moment in front of these powerful men who knew her too well anyway. Two of them, anyway, and a third who wanted even more.

The Dragonborn, slightly embarrassed by the attention, did not let it dissuade him from the question. "It is true that I find our fair Jarl to be very desirable, and it is also true that I have begun seeking to know her better, with hopes that more might develop."

He made sure his mouth was occupied with a flagon of ale so as not to have to say more, while he gauged the reactions of those around the table. Tullius was neutral, admitting or conceding nothing. Falk was agitated, but not hostile. And Elisef just looked at him, her own eyes uncertain.

No one spoke until she said, "I have thought on this offer, and thought much of what it would mean."

She gestured slightly to the men beside her, and said, "Let us leave aside the personal for a moment, as I have learned all too well to do, and I ask all three of you whether this would be good for Skyrim."

Falk was the first to speak, "Men who have been on the field of battle with the Dragonborn respect him. I've seen it myself. And word of the things he has done has reached many quarters. The Gods would seem to favor him, and having avenged your husband's honor, that might also be right in the eyes of Arkay."

Wulf smiled as he appreciated the praise of the bigger man, but he did so too soon as the older man reminded, "But if he does anything you don't want, Dragonborn or not, I'll still teach him a lesson."

Tullius laughed at that, and said, "A good man."

"General, what do you think?" Elisef probed.

"Your steward is correct. I've said before he is an extraordinary talent, and I think we should work with him. I can't imagine what trouble he will get into if we let him loose."

Surprised by the humor from the dour Imperial, everyone had a small laugh at the Nord's expense, but he took it in good fashion.

"It's nice to know you think so highly of me."

"We haven't gutted you yet, lad," Falk reminded. "Anyone else might have had such a pleasure."

The Jarl sat more primly and said, "So we agree you have some virtues, but the question of what this means for our land hasn't yet been answered."

Looking straight at him, she said, "Do you intend to be High King?"

The answer he offered to her was a bit surprising as the Dragonborn said, "No, my Jarl. I believe you should be High Queen of Skyrim, and that you'll be dedicated to the affairs of our people far better than I can."

Taken aback by this statement, Tullius wondered what he was planning but Falk commended the idea, "Shows some good wisdom there. The Jarl has spent a lifetime in these circles, and will be far less threatening to the Moot."

"For love then?" she said wistfully.

He smiled, not answering her so directly, but continued, "I would be honored to High King as consort not ruler, and to trust that my wife would speak for all Nords, all Skyrim in what will follow."

Tullius sighed, and seeing others' attention turned to him, said, "So what are your ambitions?"

He was tempted to shrug away the question for another day. It was far into the future, at best, but here in this room and in this place, the temptation was strong to share his mind. Tullius and Firebeard would be valuable allies and were good men whose help he would need. But that wasn't why he spoke. He spoke because he saw the woman needed to know.

"A moment," he begged, and then began humming a quiet incantation. No one else was present, and a silent thrum beat through the air as the table was encircled in a ward of silencing.

"My thoughts are not yet complete, so you may speak as you will, but I will speak honestly and true for I respect you all."

"Perhaps it is the call of the Dragon within me, and perhaps it is also the Nord who has seen my land besmirched, but I feel a war coming. I know the Aldmeri Dominion is the real threat to not just Skyrim or this Empire, but humanity itself. And I mean to fight them."

"You would restart the Great War, Dragonborn" Falk chortled. "Even if you could cut down a hundred elves a moment, there would be thousands more to replace them. And we've lost so many lives already, between this war and the last one. It would be madness now."

Tempering the concerns of the other man, Wulf agreed, "It would be. Skyrim is not ready for such a fight, and having a weak Emperor does not help. The Emperor lacks the blood of the Dov needed to stand strong, and his authority is in question."

"Wait a moment," Tullius protested. "I won't hear that. I've fought for my Empire, and we haven't lost any battles, not here and I won't hear."

"General," the Nord hero chastened gently, "I don't question the honor, valor, or dignity of the Legion. Only its leadership."

Elisef said the obvious item to prevent the General from taking further offense by saying, "Then you mean to be Emperor one day, and a marriage to me is a first step to secure what: An Army."

"It had occurred to me that men would be needed," he admitted.

"And do you think I value our kinsmen so slightly that I would just devote them to battle on my husband's authority." Her steel surprised and delighted him and she rebuked his presumptions. "You ask for a war torn land to lurch toward another battle. I wonder at the wisdom of this, Dragonborn."

"It is a good question," he said, though the fire was rising where he wanted to say a hastier word. Swallowing the bile, he said, "But there are two things to consider. One, our adversary has already taken steps against all of us in both prolonging this war and in weakening our people. And two, such a cause might unify our people."

"The Legion cannot support such a war," Tullius made clear. "I realize how unpopular the White-Gold Concordat is here, and not just in Skyrim, but there is no stomach in Cyrodil for a fight at this time." He shook his head in denial as he said, "Leaving aside the Emperor would never go for this, and listening to half of what I have heard here is treason."

It was clear the Imperial was considering leaving, but Elisef begged, "General, we are just talking amongst friends, a frank discussion as we Nords sometimes enjoy, and benefit from the wisdom of your counsel. Please do not take offense, and stay."

Out of respect, Tullius did just that, but Falk was not going to go unheard.

"I do not like these Thalmor nor do I trust them. But this is not the time for this fight, Dragonborn. Maybe given a generation to prepare, we could teach them a lesson. Unless you have an army of dragons at your command."

Half question, half jest, the Dragonborn responded honestly by saying, "I might be able to bring a dragon or two to the fight, but you wouldn't want any more than that, and dragons have a funny way of making their own decisions."

"Tell me about it," Tullius lamented quietly before the attention shifted to the head of the table.

"And Wulf," Elisef said, "I will not be used as a pawn. A partner, perhaps, but not a pawn." Her eyes turned cold, hinting that she could command her emotions when required, and confirming the reason why he thought she should be High Queen.

He continued unabated and said, "I do not think we should have an open war with the Thalmor, and I ask neither the Legion nor Skyrim, at least as an entity, to take up this fight. My plan is different than that."

"What exactly is this great plan then?" Firebeard rejoined. "Don't keep us in suspense."

"Hammerfell."

"Hammerfell?" asked Tullius with obvious surprise. "That continent is a disaster and the Aldmeri control half of it, with no one controlling the dessert."

"It is my understanding that those who wish to fight have gone there to continue the struggle. Imperials, Nords, the free remnants of the Redguards."

Falk chimed in, "The Redguards can fight with the best of them, and as bad as losing Talos was for us, what was done to them was a crime."

Tullius dolefully added, "I agree. That was an unpopular decision." He didn't need to say it was a downright betrayal by Emperor Mede of their allies, because all knew this was true.

But Elisef continued, "I do not envy their plight, but given the Empire could not protect them, and our own troubles, why should Skyrim concern ourselves with their problems?"

Wulf looked at her frankly and said, "Because if we do not wish to be subservient to the Thalmor, we will need allies. The Bretons trade with anyone, the Imperials are too self-absorbed, but in the Redguards, there are people who are strong and will fight."

Everyone went silent in their own thoughts considering this, not commenting because none really knew what the Dragonborn could accomplish. To fight a beast was one challenge, but motivating men and building what he proposed, entirely different. It would require friends, allies, organization, and purpose, and everyone there knew it. The idea appealed to each and was abhorrent to each, so no one would speak.

Eventually, Wulf said, "It is but one idea and a beginning not an end. I would seek your counsel. I need seasoned veterans who can honestly say what is possible, forthright counselors who can plan and organize well," acknowledging the two men, but he ended with, "And a conscience. A woman who looks out for her people but myself also. Who can know me when I can't trust myself."

The deep words only prolonged the silence as he accepted their appraisal. He ignored the two men, and focused squarely on Elisef. "I've always been alone, and done everything alone, but this isn't something that can be done alone."

"No, it cannot," she said in a quiet tone. Her eyes closed, almost painfully, and then she put a mask over her features and said, "General, Steward, would you gentlemen be kind enough to leave me alone here with the Dragonborn so I may share a few thoughts with him in private?"

Both silently acknowledged her request, and left noiselessly as she glared at him.

"Who are you, really, Dragonborn?"

"I'm the Dovahkiin. The child of dragons," he clarified.

"I don't know what to do with you," she conceded. "If this was just a political marriage, it would be easier. I would say yes, and we could rule the land happily, and that would be enough. But it won't be for you, will it?" she asked already knowing the answer.

"Probably not," he confessed. "The world might be big enough."

Shaking her head and rolling her eyes, she said, "And how is any one woman supposed to accept that?"

"She would have to be patient, and special, and you."

Elisef fought back any smile he hoped to steal from her and took on a more formal tone as she said to him, "I will ask a boon of you Dragonborn before I make any decision about your proposal."

Surprised by her reluctance and uncertain of her demand, he cautiously agreed, "Of course, I would be happy to prove my affection in any way you require."

"What I ask is not for me, but for yourself," she said plainly. "You have travelled to Sovngarde," she recollected from his earlier story.

"Yes, I have enjoyed that honor," he recalled, thinking of how he met so many heroes there before the final confrontation with Alduin.

"Then I wonder if there, or anywhere else, you might answer the question I asked you when we were alone."

Seeing a lack of understanding on his part, Elisef expanded, "I want to know who you are, and think you need to know yourself before you do any of these things. And I want to know the man I would marry, should I say yes. So, if you want my hand, I charge you to undertake a quest to learn your past, taking such time as it might require."

He was stunned by her request, not so much offended as perplexed at how he would even begin such a journey. "What you ask," he stammered, "I do not know if it is possible."

"You're a master of possibility. Find yourself, Dragonborn," she said confidently, "And then, if you so will it, and if you desire me, we may speak of other possibilities."

She walked over to him, graceful in her gait, and said, "This is my gift to you. If you understand it as such, maybe you might belong with me." Her fingers brushed his only lightly before she turned and left. No further comments, no answers, and just confusion.

How had his personal life become part of this? This was about politics, or was it about the heart? He didn't know, and he wanted to scream. He wanted to sail off into the night, and to just be free of thinking so much, of having life be so complicated.

So he took his leave, quietly, and went home to change into a simple traveling outfit. Grabbing his trusty sword Valkyrie, he walked down past the docks of the East Empire Company and called out into the night.

**_"Od-Ah-Viing"_**

Within moments, a great flapping could be heard in the distance as a great thundering beast revealed itself within the moonlight. The dragon Odahviing, once supportive of Alduin but turned into a companion if not quite an ally, appeared before the Dragonborn.

In the halting speech of the dragon, the fearsome beast said, "Why do you call me, Joor?"

Feeling as mortal as he ever had, the Dovahkiin only said, "I wanted to taste the wind tonight, and so I called."

Bellowing a deep laugh, the dragon offered his neck as Wulf climbed atop him and heard the dragon say, "I told you that you would never see the world the same."

As they ascended above Skyrim and he could make out towns as just little dots on a gigantic map, the Dragonborn thought he couldn't know how right he was. The world could be so big in small places, and yet seem so small like this.

He knew he would undertake the quest without having to say it to himself or anyone else. But not tonight. Before he could learn who he was, he hoped to first feel who he was. And upon the darkened sky, with the only sounds being the rushing air and the beating of the wings to either side of him, he thought the first answer might come in the mighty pulsing of his own heart.


	4. Chapter 4

Flying deep into the night sky, it was impossible to describe the exhilaration and freedom of riding the air. It was like being in a river, where there were currents to follow and shoals to avoid. One could fly through them when necessary, but a dragon learned to ride the wind in the sky just as they rode the current of time.

Wulf was learning what being a dragon meant, and surely part of it was thing being whole in oneself. Dragons didn't die, and maybe that too was part of it. Would he? The pain from wounds gathered over a thousand battles felt real enough, but that was a different question. He didn't have the answers, but a thought occurred to him as Odahviing carried him beneath the moonlight.

"Take me to the Throat of the World. I must speak with Paarthurnax," he related.

"You seek wisdom from the old one. Very well, we shall fly higher!" With a sudden beating of his wings, Wulf's dragon mount flew higher into the sky. Looking below, Whiterun appeared as just a speck as the highest mountain in Skyrim, in all Tamriel came quickly into focus.

It was not long before they reached the summit well above High Hrothgar, and Odahviing let the Nord disembark. He said something quickly in dragon language to the weathered beast who lay atop this peak, contemplating the Way of the Voice as he always did, and then took off without any further thought. A way of action they lived, not much for good-byes.

Although the air was cold this far up during the night and he wasn't dressed as warmly as he might have chosen in a more thoughtful moment, the Dragonborn walked confidently toward his ally and confident and greeted him with respect.

Words were exchanged in ancient ritual in the tongue of the Dov, before they slipped into a dialect more suitable for Wulf.

"To speak your tongue is always a welcome pleasure, one I have not enjoyed often enough since the passing of Alduin," hissed Parthurnaax in the blend of regret and remembrance with which he often regarded his previous leader.

"An oversight which I shall have to remedy," replied Wulf, diplomatically. In truth, it was not a convenient place to come, and the Greybeards who were the closest inhabitants to this aerie did not share a similar viewpoint to the Dragonborn. There were also other reasons for this, but they would have to be addressed later.

One thing which was true is that he respected the counsel of the elder dragon before him, and so he spoke plainly of the question that troubled him, "Paarthurnax, you have taught me much about what it means to be a dragon, but I would ask you a question about what it means to be a man."

As he had hoped, the winged giant was amused by this juxtaposition, "I do not know that in all my meditation, I have learned what it means to be a joor." He collected his thoughts a bit before adding, "I have learned how to control who I am, to control my will, and maybe this is what concerns you…"

"No," Wulf dissented, "It's different." The dragon waited patiently as the man before him rendered his confusion into words.

"Dragons live forever, right?" he began by asking.

"Some," replied Paarthurnax. "Those who are greater dragons and have lived longest will only pass away if their soul is taken or by an act of the Gods, save for the end of time which waits for us all."

"And I am part dragon, am I not?" Wulf furthered his inquiry.

The hulking figure considered this leisurely before answering. "They say the dovahkiin carries the blood of the elder race which is why you can speak our tongue and hear our words. But no, you are not a dragon. You are a mortal."

Wulf nodded, walking a little bit as he fleshed out his own confusion, saying, "I did not think I was immortal either, but I have a problem then. I do not know my own origin."

Paarthurnax said nothing, so the Nord elaborated further, "It is as if one day, I simply came into being and existence, but that I had no childhood and no past."

"Have you no memories of when you were a hatchling?" asked the dragon, intrigued by this new revelation.

"None. I woke up one day in this land and in this place. I knew the tongue, knew the places, and knew many things except myself. I took this name Wulf, which I have called myself, but I do not know if it is my true name."

"That is a great story," agreed the giant sitting there as his claws crossed one another as if in contemplation. "Amongst our kind, the eldest of our race were told to have just come into being. Perhaps it was so also amongst men, but such stories are resigned to the distant elder days."

"Can you tell me of those tales?" wondered the Dragonborn aloud.

The dragon settled into a comfortable position as he had many times before when sharing a long story and said, "What I share with you is something passed down amongst the eldest of us, from a time before men and before I came into awareness. It is said that Lord Akatosh, Ruler of Time and our creator simply made us come into being."

"So he designed you to be as you are?" interrupted the mortal.

"I have thought long and hard on this question," pondered Paarthurnax, "but I have no easy answer. The Way of the Voice teaches we choose how we are, but none of us chooses how we were made. Sometimes, I have thought the reason we dragons are made as we are is that we are the first thoughts of the God made flesh."

Rising to his full height, he blew out a rare plume of fire, saying his own name in Dragontongue before saying, "Ambition, Tyranny, Cruelty. These are the words of my name, and yet, do you find me such a creature? Have I not strived to overcome?"

Nodding respectfully with a single bow, Wulf watched as his counterpart settled more calmly from the drastic figure he had struck.

"But these thoughts are within me. They are who I am, even if how I choose to use them or not use them is my own. The Gods made me as a dragon."

He turned to face the human who was listening to what he said, now lost in his own problem, saying, "I think we eldest were the simplest ideas, the thoughts made form before all others could follow. Small, but unique in their complexity, unlike we great and terrible dragons." He rose as if to blow out another flame, and instead just puffed lightly in what almost seemed like a sigh.

Turning to face Wulf, the dragon said, "This is why I follow the way of Jurgen Windcaller, a mortal who had the voice, but who was yet more by being less."

As fascinating as the discussion was, Wulf found himself no less troubled and no closer to a solution, but he latched onto the only idea which might be applicable and said, "Do you think it might be possible then that the Gods put me here for some idea or some reason?"

"The Gods have their reasons which we cannot always know," said the elder to the younger. "But I would not presume to know, other than to say all things are possible. And yet, you are here and you have this mystery. Is there no one amongst your own kind who you can ask about such things?"

"No one who has seen so much as you."

Paarthurnax laughed at that jest, and said, "So now I am as wise as the bones upon the field, and just like them, I shall protect my wisdom by being silent, my friend."

Dragon humor was certainly strange, but he received a bit more guidance, "I would meditate on the question, for the answer you seek must be within you if anywhere."

It was reasonable advice for Paarthurnax to offer, but it wasn't as helpful as he hoped. He didn't feel like thinking deeply, and didn't want to take the time to do that, so he nodded as best he could and made a brief farewell.

Respecting each other, they parted and Wulf started down the path to High Hrothgar. He supposed he could have called back Odahviing, but he didn't think any dragon could help. If anyone, maybe Durnehviir, but that wasn't the option he wanted to start with, so he thought differently. Maybe it was time to visit his own kind, but where he wanted to go was a long walk away.

In all his traveling, Wulf had learned a few tricks. It wasn't quite a skill anyone should attempt, and a misstep was very dangerous, but cliff falling had become something of a game to him. Rappelling down a massive slope with a series of jumps would be very quick, and more than a little dangerous, but he enjoyed the vigor of it. Once he had taken to what he knew was the north slope of the mountain, he began the rapid descent.

What would take hours to climb could be dismounted in minutes, and as the world rushed by, his mind found clarity. What were the options? Either he had no past, and had simply appeared, or he had a past he could not remember, and it was lost to him. He had heard of stories of people who forgot who they were due to some trauma or accident, and considered that more likely, but not the only possibility. As the world rushed at him, he knew he needed this answer.

Damn that Elisef for asking though. He had made a living of being who he had to be, and taking on the mission perfectly. Why would it matter so much who he was? Why was he bothered by this?

And then he hit the ground with a hard thud. The final landing was always the roughest, but with nimble experience he landed upon his feet. Not so far from Whiterun, he took the final distance quickly and quietly, passing by the various farms outside the town and avoiding the Khajit caravan to find his mare at the stables.

Mounting her while throwing a septim to the sleepy stable hand keeping track of the horses, Wulf made his way eastward toward the Karth River. Past the camps of the giants and the Western Watchtower he rode, through the passes he had emptied of robbers, and found his own path to the Sky Temple just as dawn was breaking. If anyone would have an idea, he thought, perhaps the lore master Esbern might.

He didn't usually come in the cave side entrance, but it would perhaps be easier this way. There were issues unresolved with the Blades, and now was as good a time as any to settle them.

As he emerged from the Karthspire, having faced no vermin more irritating than skeevers in his passage, he found his way blocked by one of their newer recruits, the orcish woman Borgakh the Steel Heart.

"Dragonborn," she said stiffly but proudly, "As happy as I am to see you, the Grandmaster instructed me that none are to pass without her consent."

Considering that he had brought the ferocious warrior and her talents to Delphine's attention, Wulf had hoped this might prove a less formal affair, and sought to persuade her, "And I am sure you are doing that well, but I assure you that my business is with the Grandmaster," which he said while biting his tongue about the presumptiveness of the once innkeeper who was in hiding," and I will report to her immediately."

He sensed the uncertainty in the sentry as he felt the competing demands of loyalty and duty match one another, and she growled a bit as she said, "I will take you to her."

Not quite what he wanted, but sufficient for the cause, he entered into the Hall of the Blades. Renovations had continued and accelerated in his absence, as he had not come here since that nasty incident following the peace conference before the war was settled. She had insisted, no demanded, the death of Paarthurnax and he had refused pointing rightly to the need to focus on the true enemy: Alduin. But the daft woman had only seen the world in black and white then. He hoped today would go better.

Walking into the hall, he saw a few new faces, but nodded respectfully to the new recruits whom he had brought into the fold. J'zargo, the Khajiti mage, was proving as formidable as he expected he would have done. In another corner, Mjoll the Lioness, who was no kitten but a woman who could brawl with anyone was practicing her combat skills. He would have called to her, but before he could, the Dragonborn was interrupted.

"Unless you've come to tell me that your friend has passed," Delphine said in obvious reference to Paarthurnax, "you have no business here. And you may either leave or I will have you removed."

Her cold eyes glinted as she looked at the Dragonborn, and he suppressed his irritation as he said, "I would like to speak with you privately. I need to speak with you and Esbern."

"Has Alduin returned?" she asked primly.

"No, not to my knowledge," he admitted, "But this is important."

"We have nothing to speak of," she said, turning away from him and toward an uncomfortable Borgakh to issue an order to dismiss him when the walls suddenly began to shake.

**_Gol-Hah-Dov_**

The cry echoed through the hall, and almost against her will, Delphine found herself turning to face the man whom she had ignored. His face now flushed and at the edge of anger, he spoke with great strength and volume so all could hear.

"Delphine," he said, referring to her by name, "I have tolerated your insolence because of the good work we have done together and because of your noble intent, but no more. If the Blades exist to serve the Dragonborn, then you will not bar the doors to me any further, and you **will not** question decisions I make once they are made."

Seeing the uncertainty on those around him, he said in a deeper voice that had the otherworldly thu'um of the dragons, "If any of you wish to challenge me for leadership, then do so now." One by one, he eyed the warriors, mages, and other skilled people they had collected and all looked away until he looked at Delphine.

He raised his hand and with an incantation, held her still. She looked angrily at him, but also with something in her eyes: Fear. He hoped for respect, but would settle for this if it need be this way. He walked ominously toward her, not a breath being said throughout the hall. And then, when he reached Delphine, he released the bond he held over her.

For the benefit of all, Wulf said, "You're doing great work here and have my confidence. Let us speak more of this in private counsel."

Confused but also grateful, she led him back toward a different compartment as everyone else rushed to be somewhere else, no one questioning what they had seen.

Meekly at first, her steps gathered intensity once more until they reached a small room in the back and then she turned on him, "How dare you!?"

He held his hand up, without anger, but in clear warning, "Delphine. You're a great leader, and these people need you, but you forget your place. You serve me, as do the Blades. If you cannot understand and accept this, I will replace you."

With fury, she said, "I was a knight before you were born, sworn to protect the Emperors and…"

"You failed," interjected the Nord. "And your order was destroyed."

With rage, she threw herself at him, and he caught her easily and held her so she couldn't escape. Whispering, he said, "Do you really think your rage greater than the dragon fire that burns in my veins? I sometimes think the reason you're so demanding is that you have some of that blood yourself."

She bit down on her own comment and then said, "Release me."

He did, and Wulf looked at her and said, "What will it be?"

Ignoring the question, she asked, "Why did you come?"

"It will wait," the Dragonborn said. "Will you work with me and accept the decisions I make?"

When she did not answer, he reasoned further, "Have I ever questioned you?"

"What would you call what you just did in that hallway?" she asked.

"Diplomacy." As she was taken aback, he said, "If you were in my place, I'd be a corpse."

He didn't have to see her face to know what he had said had finally struck home. She caught her breath, breathed in, and then said more calmly, "Why have you come?"

Her resignation was the answer he sought. It wasn't a capitulation, but an understanding which would require nurturing or reinforcement, with Wulf hoping for the former in coming days.

"I need to solve a mystery, and I thought perhaps either you or Esbern would have some ideas."

Almost as if on cue, the ancient master of lore wandered along and into the room. With a beard that seemed to grow longer each time he saw the man, Esbern seemed more in place in the next world than this one, but his knowledge and study had proven useful many times in the past.

"It's good to see you," greeted the Dragonborn.

Having obviously heard the argument from outside the door where he might not have been alone, the wizened old man returned a smile in response and said, "I hear you have a new mystery for us to unravel."

Esbern took a seat at one side of the table, and the Dragonborn conscientiously took a seat at the other side, leaving the head of the table open. He looked calmly at Delphine who waited only a moment before walking, somewhat resignedly, to the head of the table.

"Yes, but this is not about dragons, necessarily."

He could see the slight disappointment in the man's eyes, but the Blades Grandmaster interjected, "Then what is the issue?"

"Me."

"You," she said, surprised.

"Yes, me," agreed Wulf. "You see, I don't know who I am."

She looked on him with disbelief as Esbern said cautiously, as if talking to someone who had been struck to a fever, "You are the Dragonborn, named Wulf. Are you okay?"

In truth, Wulf didn't know whether to be touched or irritated by the old man's concern, so he elaborated, "I know what I am, but you're not understanding. What I'm saying is I don't know where I have come from. I know who I am now, and what I have done, but I don't know my past."

"Amnesia," she whispered beneath her breath, looking over at the lore master for confirmation as he was equally uncertain.

"I don't know," replied the Dragonborn with all candor. "But I think it might be very important."

"Well," said the man who had solved so many other mysteries. "There are certain tests that can be done to determine if the mind has been altered, and if memories are in the past. I'm no wizard, but I have heard of these examinations before."

"Do you know how to check these things?" asked the Dragonborn, hoping finally for an answer.

"I'm only a keeper of records and stories," he said, but upon seeing the disappointment on Wulf's face, he continued quickly by adding, "But I know someone who might be able to help."


End file.
